


Treasure

by sadwitchcraft



Series: Memories of House Pavus [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Accidentally caught a feeling, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Felix is a like a brother, Fluff and Smut, Gereon collects some trash and takes it home with him, Hook-Up, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, gay bars of Tevinter, love at first kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:14:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24509740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadwitchcraft/pseuds/sadwitchcraft
Summary: A beautiful stranger kisses Dorian at a masked party. Part of a series exploring Dorian's backstory.---Rilienus smiled as he pulled away from Dorian, leaving traces of gold behind on his lips. He was wearing a mask, as they all were, but he had gone the extra mile towards making himself look like absolute perfection with the application of gold to his lips. His eyes glittered behind his mask, full of promises. Everything about him burned at the back of Dorian’s throat like whiskey.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Rilienus
Series: Memories of House Pavus [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1771555
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

He was quite literally gilded when their lips first met and Dorian fell in love. The young man leaned down to him in an elegant arc and kissed him full on the lips. They didn’t know each other’s names. Masks obscured their faces. 

Rilienus smiled as he pulled away from Dorian, leaving traces of gold behind on his lips. He was wearing a mask, as they all were, but he had gone the extra mile towards making himself look like absolute perfection with the application of gold to his lips. His eyes glittered behind his mask, full of promises. Everything about him burned at the back of Dorian’s throat like whiskey.

They were at one of the functions they all jokingly called ‘Orlesian parties’, despite the fact that they had very little to do with Orlais. The masks were for their safety, even though that was an illusion. Everyone who attended the Orlesian parties eventually saw through the illusion. Dorian remembered the first time he had recognized someone outside of one of the parties -- it had been a low, husky, laugh that he’d heard only nights before. 

He wanted to know this gilded boy’s name, rules be damned. He already seemed like he was desperately out of reach, having straightened back up. But he was still looking at Dorian. 

“I have to know who you are,” Dorian spoke up above the music being played, “or speak to you, at the very least.”

“Was it that good?” the young man laughed and turned his head to say something to the other man sitting with him. A moment later he hopped down from his perch and held his hand out to Dorian to kiss. Dorian did so gladly, gathering the hand in his and pressing his lips to his knuckles.

“Why don’t you give me a name?” the man smiled with those gilded lips. Dorian looked up at him, wanting so badly to kiss him again. 

“Tesoro,” Dorian murmured and kissed his hand again. This brought a laugh from the beautiful stranger. 

“And I’ll call you Cecilius,” ‘Tesoro’ stepped in close to him and kissed him again, “just for tonight.”

The rest of the party be damned. Tesoro took his hand and he followed like an obedient puppy. There were people all around them indulging themselves in drink, tonics and concoctions. Each other. But Tesoro clearly wanted some privacy. It thrilled Dorian. It meant that he intended it to just be them. 

Tesoro pressed him up against the wall as soon as they were hidden away in some little out of the way niche in a mostly empty hallway. His lips were burning against Dorian’s throat, leaving behind little trails of gold on his already too hot skin. Dorian eagerly tilted his head back for him, even as he tried to pull clothing aside to get to Tesoro’s skin. 

“Mm, wait,” Tesoro caught his wrist and held it, pressing another kiss to his throat, “I want this to last. You’re too good to waste so quickly.”

Dorian was usually all too happy to entertain something fast, but the fact that Tesoro wanted it to last? It made his stomach feel deliciously tight. And Tesoro’s grip on his wrist only served to get him harder. They kissed, Tesoro trapping his wrist above his head against the wall and leaning into him. Dorian relished the feeling of the other man’s hard cock pressing against his hip. He held onto Tesoro’s hip, grinding against him slowly and wanting for the moment he’d be able to feel their skin touch. Too good to waste so quickly…

Tesoro rubbed his thumb over Dorian’s lip, pressing it into the heat of his mouth when Dorian opened for him. Dorian traced the pad of his thumb with the tip of his tongue, giving Tesoro a look that promised more. As soon as his wrist was released, Dorian dropped down to his knees. Tesoro stroked his cheek with the backs of his fingers, and slowly undid his belt. The teasing was almost unbearable, but it made it so very worth it when he exposed himself for Dorian. 

“Slow, slow,” Tesoro murmured above him, petting his hand over Dorian’s hair. Dorian did his best to listen to him, feeling the slide of his skin in his hand and tasting the salt of his skin with the tip of his tongue. Slow was agony. But oh, how he wanted to please this man. He hooded his eyes when Tesoro finally allowed him to take his cock fully in his mouth -- still slow. Slow, gave him time to enjoy the feel of it against his tongue and the strange pressure at the back of his throat that usually made him gag. Slow… gave him appreciation.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Cecilius?” Tesoro’s voice was huskier than it had been. Dorian looked up at him slowly. His golden lips were slightly parted, his chest heaving. Maker, he was beautiful. He pulled off of his cock and gasped for his own breath, “Please.”

The next few moments were a shuffle of clothing and bodies. Dorian sat down on the little bench behind him. Should he take off his boots? Was it weird to leave them on? He usually never worried about these things. But this… this was so different.

“They’re fine, don’t worry,” Tesoro sat next to him and kissed him. His hand reached between Dorian’s legs, wrapping around his cock and giving him a few slow slick strokes. He’d clearly pulled out some lubricant that Dorian hadn’t seen because he was so concerned with his damn boots.

“Thank the Maker whatever that is isn’t tingling,” Dorian murmured heatedly between kisses, “why would someone want the sensation of burning…”

Tesoro laughed, shaking his head, “Are you always funny?”

“I’m far more handsome than I am funny.”

“Humble, too.”

“Naturally,” Dorian smiled, then closed his eyes when he felt Tesoro’s slicked finger against him. Anything Dorian had to say about Tesoro’s choice of lubricant died on his lips as he was drawn in by the feel of how the man touched him. Slow. It made Dorian squirm and want to urge him on, but it also made him feel like the man cared. What an inopportune time to experience an emotion.

Tesoro kissed him deep and heated. Then he was being pulled to the edge of the bench, Tesoro’s gentle fingers replaced by the firm press of his cock. The initial press was slow, drawing a low groan out of Dorian… then the whole idea of slow was gone. Tesoro’s hand was firm behind one of his knees, his head dropped down to Dorian’s shoulder as he fucked into him hard. His hot breath on Dorian’s shoulder made him ache. He wrapped his arm around the other man’s shoulders, his fingers tracing against the back of his neck. His other hand gripped Tesoro’s ass, urging him on harder.

Dorian sought Tesoro’s lips in the afterglow, not wanting him to pull away. If it were up to him, he’d stay in that moment forever, his knees pressed to the outsides of Tesoro’s lips, both of them glistening with sweat and breathing raggedly. All of the gold had been wiped off of Tesoro’s lips and transferred to Dorian’s sweat slick skin. 

“Tell me your name,” Dorian whispered to him, looking up into his masked face, “please.”

“Tesoro,” the other man smiled at him and pecked him another little kiss, “remember?”

Dorian left the Orlesian party feeling sated and remorseful. He’d never wanted to know who someone was so badly. He was sure he had seen Tesoro a few times before, the more he thought about it… though he wasn’t one of the people Dorian had become familiar with. He was just a too beautiful stranger that Dorian had already fallen for with one gold tinted kiss. 

Tesoro wasn’t at the next party, or the one after that. Dorian started to hate them because of how badly he wanted to find the other man. He finally made the decision not to go and opted to wander the Circle’s library instead. It was nearly abandoned at that hour. Well enough. He didn’t want to see anyone, anyways. He wandered the stacks, tracing his fingers over the spines of books and looking for something to read that would draw his mind away from thoughts of cold.

Another man wandered the same aisle as him and he did his best to ignore him. Even though the bastard seemed persistent in standing next to him. Dorian was truly about to get annoyed when a voice whispered in his ear, “Cecilius.”

“How do you know?” Dorian felt a shiver go down his spine at that name. He stared at the books in front of him, goosebumps forming on his arms at the feeling of breath on his neck.

“Because I was tempted to call you Peacock when I met you. Your disguise isn’t that good,” Tesoro chuckled warmly behind him, his voice quiet and even, “Come with me.”

“Only if you tell me your name. You clearly know mine,” Dorian found himself a little irritated. He wanted to turn around and look at ‘Tesoro’ but also didn’t want to give him that satisfaction. He was already standing far too close for comfort in a public place.

“Rilienus,” he purred in Dorian’s ear. Music. Rilienus. Rilienus. Dorian could say it again and again in his mind and not grow tired of it. He turned around to face the other man, drinking in his smile and dark eyes. He was even more beautiful under the candlelight of the library than he had been gilded at the Orlesian party. 

They spent the night together in Rilienus’ rooms, kissing bruises into each other’s skin. Dorian fell asleep with his head resting on Rilienus’ chest. The man was still there when he woke up, holding him close and running his fingers through his hair. Dorian could have told him that he loved him at that very moment. 

“You’re so boring,” he said instead, and Rilienus laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: dub-con. The elves of Tevinter are, as we know, typically slaves. The elves Dorian interacts with in this chapter are likely to be slaves and that's why I put dub-con. The power dynamic makes consent questionable. 
> 
> Chapter contains alcohol abuse.

Dorian kept his eyes closed even though he was awake. He felt content, and he wanted to stay in that moment just a little while long. Rilienus’ heartbeat was steady and comforting beneath his ear, accompanied by the slow rise and fall of his chest. What a wonder, to wake up in the arms of a lover.

They initially kept their contact to the ‘Orlesian parties’. The parties were organized for people of similar tastes to enjoy each other’s company safely and anonymously. Even if the anonymity somewhat wore down over time, if you attended enough of the parties. At the very least, they were a place to go for men who liked men, and women who liked women. It wasn’t unusual for people to conduct their relationships with each other within that safety net. If something happened… you could always claim you had no idea who was who. Everyone was masked, after all.

Then they started to repeat that chance meeting in the library. Oh, Rilienus! I had no idea you frequented the market. Oh, Dorian! Imagine seeing you here? Pretense and feigned surprise when meeting in places they agreed to was exhausting in its own right. They arrived at the conclusion that they’d simply have to publicly be friends. That was easy enough. They were both in the same social class. Rilienus was a year younger than him, and studying at one of the Circles Dorian had been expelled from. It was entirely plausible that they had met there rather than the truth.

Rilienus was the only positive thing that had come out of Dorian’s presence in Minrathous. He was still angry with Halward for having made the decision to send him to some snobbish little Order of Argent school. He was religious, make no mistake, but the place made him feel more like he was studying to devote his life to the Chantry rather than magic. Getting outside of the school was a chore. Dorian accepted it as a personal challenge and slipped out after hours as often as possible. Sure, he’d be chastised, but what were they honestly going to do? Give his father’s money back?

Dorian rubbed his cheek against Rilienus’ shoulder. The other man stirred, wrapping his arm more tightly around Dorian’s shoulders and kissing the top of his head. Dorian turned his face towards his chest and inhaled the scent of his skin deeply.

“I love you,” Rilienus murmured sleepily, pressing another kiss to Dorian’s hair. Dorian felt a jolt of adrenaline run through his body. They hadn’t been saying that, not yet. Dorian had been delivering jabs and quips to Rilienus since the first night that translated out to ‘I love you’ if you happened to be Dorian, but not this. It was as thrilling as it was terrifying.

“A shame, since you’re dull and I hate you,” Dorian answered, pushing himself to sit up. He leaned over, a soft smile on his lips before he leaned down and kissed him. Rilienus kissed him back, trailing his fingers up along his spine.

“Dorian…”

“I love you, too, Rilienus,” Dorian stole another kiss from his lips, “I’ve been saying it since I first begged to know your name.”

Dorian committed the smile that Rilienus gave him then to memory, holding it close to his heart. He’d never let it go. He didn’t know then, but he would never let it go. This moment would last forever, painted in hues of both longing and regret.

_________________________________________________

Dorian was a mage, not a rogue. Climbing over fences and rooftops was not something he was particularly thrilled to be doing, nor something he was practiced at. But he needed to get out. He couldn’t stay there anymore, his father be damned. He judged the distance between one rooftop and the next. It was...probably survivable? Ah, well, fuck it.

He found himself clinging to the corner of a roof, gritting his teeth as he struggled to pull himself up. They had been waiting for him to return from his most recent adventure outside the school walls. And they’d been waiting for him to come home with a Chantry priest at hand. After a few hours of being lectured on his sin and decadence, rolled into vague and explicit threats, Dorian asked if he could be excused to use the bathroom. The window was just large enough for a determined young mage to squeeze himself through. The fact that he ended up falling a short distance and landing on his back was something to be ignored.

They knew an inordinate amount about his personal life. Someone had clearly broken the rules of the Orlesian parties and had snitched on him. Unfortunately the nature of the parties meant he didn’t really know who that could have been. Trying to think on it was foolish. People could easily change the masks that they wore -- and it surely wasn’t one of the people Dorian had actually come to know. Ril had said his disguise was bad…

  
He got himself up onto the roof and laid there for a moment. This was his fault. They didn’t appear to know Ril’s name, even though they had been accusing Dorian of being out all night practicing at being an aberration. He didn’t need to practice, thank you very much. He dropped his head down to the roof tiles and closed his eyes. Where was he going to go? If they did manage to follow him, he couldn’t risk leading them back to Rilienus. He wasn’t going to ruin his life, too.

There would be time to send a letter. For now, he just had to find somewhere to hide. He pushed himself up off of the roof tiles and started to move again. It was probably safe to get back down onto the street at that point. Even if that was a challenge. He had seen one of his father’s bodyguards shimmy up a wall like a spider. Surely it couldn’t be…

It was that hard. Dorian all too quickly lost his handhold and fell down onto the street. He just laid there for awhile, staring up at the sky and wondering where his mind had gone. Had the Chantry really put so much fear into him that he was out in the streets, scrambling around like some desperate urchin? Obviously. He rolled carefully to his side and groaned. His back had already been bruised. Now he was certain he had broken his ankle. Sitting up took time. Getting his wits about him enough to cast a healing spell on himself took longer.

He was still limping when he left the alleyway.

_________________________________________________

“You can’t be here,” was possibly the worst combination of words that Dorian could imagine Rilienus saying. And yet there they were, hissed from a window out into the night. Dorian could hardly make the other man out in the darkness.

“Surely just--”

“No, Dorian,” Ril’s voice was harsher than Dorian could remember it, “they’re getting suspicious. And if they knew about you… I’m sorry.”

It had been a week since Dorian had shimmied out a window and escaped his school. He’d spent that week dodging around Minrathous with the goal of keeping anyone that might be looking for him away from Ril. A noble goal, all too easily defeated by the fact that he was lonely. He was lonely, tired, and truly just wanted to be held. He hadn’t given himself time to think about all the things that had been said to him by the Chantry priest.

“Rili, please,” Dorian hated the begging tone in his voice, “just tonight. I’m freezing.”

“Who’s out there?” a voice Dorian didn’t recognize drifted out into the night and broke his heart right there. It was plausible that it was just another student, but. But.

“Don’t worry about it,” Rilienus said over his shoulder, then turned back to Dorian, “I’m sorry…”

Dorian didn’t reply. He smiled. He made a rude gesture at the dark window and he turned on his heel to leave. So much for love. So much for fucking love.

Rilienus watched Dorian go, his eyes welling with tears. He carefully closed the window and turned to face the man standing in his doorway. Dorian was so sensitive. Rilienus knew exactly what he was thinking the moment he’d heard another voice -- and there was very little Ril could have done in that moment to convince him otherwise. He wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand and feigned being tired.

“Who was it?” the other man insisted again. He was one of the other students, tasked with walking the halls and making sure that everyone was still in bed and no one was up in the middle of the night practicing forbidden magics -- or something. They all took turns being the nightwatch. The only reason they hadn’t caught Dorian sneaking in and out of Rilienus’ room was a silencing charm he used. Rilienus wished he had bothered to have Dorian make him one, or teach him. The students on the nightwatch generally stayed out of rooms if they didn’t hear anyone talking. They all hated the task, but…

“Someone from another Circle trying to play a prank. He’s gone,” Rilienus assured him and sat back down on his bed. It would be better, if he had been able to allow Dorian inside. But what he had said was true, too. They were getting suspicious of him. He’d snuck out one too many times to attend the parties.

And there was no way to communicate any of this to Dorian. He laid down in his bed and stared at the ceiling, having no idea where Dorian was going to go. In the brief time he had known (and loved) Dorian Pavus he had seen him have a meltdown or two. In all likelihood he was going to crawl inside a bottle.

_________________________________________________

Dorian had no idea what day it was. He barely had any idea of who he was. He knew he was warm. He knew that his skin was sticky with sweat. And he knew he was presently being fucked. He’d rather passively come to that conclusion, finding it very difficult to care. He was drunk, yes. He had also thrown back a strange tasting potion that had been offered him that made him feel like he just couldn’t be touched enough. He clenched his teeth, looking up at the elf.

Oh, he could love this elf. Did he love this elf? What the fuck did love even matter? The elf was handsome, that was for sure, and what he was doing felt good even if he didn’t particularly care that it was happening. He reached up to touch the elf’s pointed ear. He’d always been somewhat fascinated by them. The fact that the elf flinched away from the touch didn’t register with him.  
He was alone the next time his consciousness checked in with him. Alone and sprawled out over a narrow bed, dying of thirst and feeling like his mouth was so dry his throat had shriveled up. Dorian pushed himself up and reached for the pitcher of water that was at the bedside. He drank the water greedily, then staggered to find a place to relieve himself. Naturally, he got lost. He had no idea where he was, anyways, and finding a bathroom in a building he had no memory being in was...complicated. An elf showed him the way.

The same elf was in his bed twenty minutes later, along with another bottle of wine. The sex wasn’t memorable. Neither was the wine. Dorian preferred to be left alone with it, and curled up on the bed to drink it straight from the bottle. He’d rather be in Ril’s bed. But so much for that. See if he ever fucking loved anyone again…

“So, this is the mage terrorizing the brothel,” a voice spoke from the doorway and he startled, dropping the bottle and spilling the wine on himself.

“Vishante kaffas!” Dorian snarled and picked up the bottle, “You made me spill my fucking wine!”

The man smiled at him, looking around the room. Dorian followed his gaze. He… hadn’t looked around the room. It was a disaster, truly. Scorch marks on the ceiling. Haphazard sigils graffitied onto the wall. The man reached out to touch one and drew his hand back, “Effective. You’ll have to invite me in.”

“Fuck yourself.”

“I’d rather not. Let me in, Dorian.”

The fact that this stranger knew his name scared Dorian. But… he didn’t have anything to lose. He got up and woozily disarmed the sigil that the man had touched. It was a trap. He didn’t remember making it. He didn’t remember doing any of the things he could see evidence of in the room.

“Thank you. I just so happened to be in the area, and overheard a conversation about calling Templars. Rather than letting that happen, I thought I’d come and see what the fuss was myself. I have to say, I’m impressed...with your work,” the man was well dressed. A Magister. Dorian didn’t have the brainpower to figure out who.

“This is an advanced barrier,” the man pointed at one of the faintly glowing scribbles on the ground, “with a unique twist. And if you did this in your current state…”

“Is there a point to this? If you’re going to admire something, it may as well be me rather than something I scribbled on the floor.”

The man laughed and held out his hand, “I am Magister Gereon Alexius. And you’re Dorian Pavus. I’ve heard about you. Though, I didn’t imagine I’d meet you...naked. Drunk. And in an elven brothel.”

Dorian looked down at himself. Ah, yes. He was naked. That explained the draft. He shrugged and took another drink out of the bottle he was holding, reaching out to take the Magister’s hand and shake.

“Surely, I can think of no better way to meet me. I have my best self on display,” Dorian quipped and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

“I’d like for you to come with me, to my home, Dorian,” Gereon Alexius continued as if he wasn’t discussing this with a naked drunkard, “as I said, I’m impressed with your work. Accomplishing this while clearly inebriated indicates to me that you could do more with your wits about you. I know you’ve been expelled from nearly every Circle across Tevinter and rejected by more tutors. I recognize a bit of myself in you.”

“Would you like to put a bit of yourself in me, Magister?”

Another laugh. Dorian was surprised that the man hadn’t just gotten angry and left. Gereon shook his head instead, “No, my dear boy. No. Not something I am interested in, though I understand that it is something that interests you. It shouldn’t matter. Now, come on. Get dressed, before they do decide to call the Templars. I paid your bill, by the way. You’re fortunate that your taste in wine is shit.”

Dorian stared at the man stupidly, but got dressed. It… it shouldn’t matter? That was enough to get him to follow Gereon Alexius out of the room and into his carriage. Gereon fed him, sobered him up. They talked as the carriage went in circles around Minrathous. Dorian lit up as soon as they started to talk about magical theory, and practice. It was something that he was passionate about, even if he had been doing everything in his power to fail.

Gereon Alexius delivered him back to the Gilded Quarter, with a promise. He was going to come back for him. He was going to take Dorian to Asariel and personally tutor him. He was going to give Dorian a chance and...and he was going to let Dorian be himself. Gereon didn’t care that Dorian preferred men. He said he suspected much the same of his son, and that it made very little difference to him. He wasn’t invested in Dorian’s pedigree. He was invested in him as a person, and as a truly talented mage. To see his talent go to waste in a gutter would be a travesty.

Dorian packed his things, pausing when he found a shirt that belonged to Rilienus. The elation drained out of him and he lifted the shirt up to his face, inhaling deeply. At least in Asariel he would be further away from this particular open wound.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix brings Dorian a snack... and a letter.

Dorian leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his face. He had heard the door, and he expected to see Gereon coming around the corner to check that he was really still in the library. As much as Dorian’s life had improved since Gereon took him in, the man was sure to keep him on a tight leash. It was necessary, really. Dorian could see that, as much as he chafed against it sometimes. The trade off was worth it, though. If Dorian submitted to being under Gereon’s thumb, Gereon did not care about how Dorian defined or expressed himself. He didn’t care what Dorian wore. He didn’t care if Dorian openly stated his attraction to a man, even if he would gently remind Dorian that he was supposed to be studying not ogling. He also did allow Dorian to go out and enjoy himself sometimes. It was better than any Circle he had been in. 

“I’m still here, Gereon,” he called out, “still reading the same paragraph, too, I’m afraid. Are you sure this book wasn’t miscribed? It could just be repeating the same thing again and again.”

Felix came around the corner instead of his father, carrying a tray, “I don’t know if he’s sure of it, but I am. I _liked_ that one. It has a lot of formulas in it.”

“You would like that sort of thing,” Dorian gave Felix a smile and nudged a chair out for him. Felix set the tray out in front of him then settled into the chair, reaching for some of the grapes he’d brought with him. If Gereon Alexius had become a surrogate father for Dorian, Felix had become like a brother. This wasn’t the first time Felix had snuck up to him with something to eat in the middle of the night. 

Dorian felt somewhat sad for the other man. He was Alexius’ only son. Well bred, by all rights, and hardly the ability to cast a simple fireball. As a result of this, he was a rather well educated man in every other possible subject. Mathematics was by far his favorite. Dorian appreciated his thoughts on magical theory. And his thoughts on _men_. It was a first for Dorian, to have someone who understood him be like _family_. Dorian reached out and took the grape he was about to eat, popping it in his mouth.

“I was eating that!”

“Not nearly fast enough, it would seem,” Dorian grinned at him. He picked at the rest of the tray that Felix had brought, angling in on the thin slices of cheese. 

“You didn’t bring me any wine?”

“I brought you grapes. Try chewing them more,” Felix offered out another grape. As much as Felix sometimes enabled Dorian’s behavior, he had been a rather steadying influence. He kept Dorian away from drowning himself in alcohol, at the very least. Dorian rolled his eyes and took the grape from him, making a show of chewing it, then quickly following it with a piece of cheese.

“Someone wrote you a letter,” Felix said after a moment and pulled the letter out of his vest. He set it down on the table between them, “I grabbed it before my father could. I don’t know if he’d read it, but...just in case.”

Dorian looked at the letter and curiously. Felix may not have known, but Dorian was sure that Gereon would read it. That was a part of keeping Dorian under his thumb. Dorian’s worst emotional spirals always happened after some kind of communication with Halward. Halward was _so_ proud of him, _so_ happy he hadn’t heard of any more “nonsense” since Alexius had taken him in…

This wasn’t Halward’s handwriting, which was likely why Felix had snagged it. He ran his fingertips over his name written on the front. _Dorian Pavus_.

Dorian opened it carefully and felt the blood drain out of his face as he read it. He could hear Felix saying his name, but… it didn’t matter.

_My dear Cecilius--_

__

__

I’m sorry I didn’t write sooner. I didn’t know where you were. I learned that you are staying with the Alexius family a few months ago. Before that it was some rumor of the slums. I felt horrible when I heard that. I felt responsible. I wasn’t sure if you would want to hear from me.

It wasn’t what you thought it was. I was trying to keep you safe. I know it has been nearly a year since I last saw you, but I miss you. I still love you. There’s a party coming up in Minrathous, a big one. Maybe you will be there? I’ll be in gold…

_Your Tesoro_

Dorian let out a bark of laughter and put the letter down on the table. Felix was quick to pick it up and read it, looking up at Dorian with a look of confusion.

“Tesoro?”

“I called Rilienus that the first night we met,” Dorian answered, looking into the cup of water he had as if he could transform it into wine by the force of his glare, “and he called me Cecilius. Funny, no?”

“Maybe you should give him a chance?” Felix set the letter back down, “You told me how happy you were with him. I could go with you? I’m sure my father will let you go if I go with you.”

“You just want to go to an Orlesian party in Minrathous,” Dorian rolled his eyes, “...still. I would be more willing to see him again, if you were with me. For support.”

Felix reached out and clasped his forearm, “Then I’ll talk to my father. Until then… eat. Read that paragraph _at least_ four more times. Then try to sleep?”

“Yes, mother.”

“My precious son!” Felix reached out to mess up Dorian’s hair with a smile. They tussled momentarily before breaking apart, both laughing. It was good. To have a brother.


End file.
